


S07E06: Lifeboat

by merr



Series: Unspoken [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Canon Dialogue, Episode Related, Episode: s07e06 Lifeboat, Gen, POV First Person, POV Jack, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merr/pseuds/merr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Jack's thinking while he watches Janet interact with Keenin in Daniel's body.</p><p>
  <i>All spoken dialogue is 100% canon in this piece; I am not claiming it as my own. No plagiarism intended, just straight-forward quotation and observation.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	S07E06: Lifeboat

The voice coming out of Daniel is somehow small, even in his tall frame; shaken, confused but not cowardly.

"I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay on Talthus."

"So you had to leave?" Janet's good at that -- talking to children gently, but not talking down.

"They knew it was going to happen since a long time before I was born." He looks up at Janet, lids tense with intelligence. And fear. "Do you know what a dark star is?"

"Mm-hmm -- one that's burned out its fuel."

"They said it would pass close enough to our sun to make it flare and that it would engulf Talthus." The kid pauses, then says with wonder: "I knew my whole life that the world was gonna end."

I feel my face tighten, mouth turn down. Christ, for a kid to have to know that, his entire life... Keenin is so forthcoming about the story, so comfortable sharing the information that it makes me a bit dizzy -- it's so... no pun intended... so _alien_ , coming from Daniel's mouth. The man's always zipped up tight, doesn't speak a goddamn word about his pain.

"So your people built the Stromos?"

"They built three ships, including the Stromos, but it wasn't enough. They had a lottery." My stomach sinks at the way the kid says the word 'lottery,' like it tastes bad in his mouth. I'm starting to get a terrible cotton feeling in my own and I hate that I have an inkling of what's coming. "They said that was the only fair way. But my father was an officer on the Stromos. He was allowed to pick one person from his family. And m-m-my mother made him choose me."

Holy hell. Had Keenin been around when his parents had that fight? I can tell Janet feels the stab to the heart just as hard as I do because she speaks softly, like she does when someone's aching around her and it's not their fault and there's nothing either of them can do about it. Me? As the tears grow more and more apparent in those baby blues, my sorrow starts alchemizing into anger. Behind the rushing in my ears, I can't help but wonder how different a man Daniel would've grown up to be if he'd been allowed to share his pain the way Keenin was now.

"My mother said that she would take her chance with the lottery, but she wasn't chosen. The Sovereigns were chosen, but she wasn't chosen. No one I know was chosen... I wanted to stay with her."

In that moment, I want to rip apart every asshole sovereign piece of shit, every crooked bastard on that damn ship to itty, bitty, sticky confetti. Or... erase their brains. Or whatever the hell I can do that hurts the most to _punish_ them. 

I know Daniel's in there, somewhere, struggling as hard as he can to break through and... well, do what he always does: try as hard as he can to please everyone at once while maximizing the protection of sentient existence, whether it's taking over his body and/or killing him slowly or not. God knows how many years it's taken off my life by watching him tramp around so ready to abandon the rest of his own for a 'good cause.' Fucking idiot. Fucking... Christ! There he goes -- Keenin, Daniel, both of the grief-stricken children living inside the grown man collapsing into Janet's lap.

As Janet hushes him, holds him close, folds him into her arms, I clench my fists and bite my tongue against my own urge to slam my way in there and shake him until I rattle everything back into place. I know it won't work, so I don't. I also know I've had a couple moments recently, since he got back from happy-shiny-funtime-glowy-land, where my mind can't decide between wanting to punch him the mouth or crush said mouth with my own. Seeing him vulnerable like this... I can't handle the new level of protectiveness and impulsivity it sparks, and so I bite my lip a little harder, plant my ass to the chair a little tighter.

He'll get through this without me losing my temper and going all angry-colonel on his ass. He will. He has to.


End file.
